


There were roses

by amelia



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Anniversary, Awesome Toshiko Sato, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Prison, Roses, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:49:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia/pseuds/amelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roses waiting on her desk were red and impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There were roses

The red blossoms were waiting for her, on her desk, just as she’d imagined as she drove through the cold Cardiff streets that morning. Tosh had watched the rain streaking her windshield and thought, if Jack were only there, she’d have roses waiting for her. 

It was her anniversary of joining Torchwood. The day she gave thanks, quietly, every year, for her rescue. Jack was a hard man and he was an enigma, but he was her hero.

Now Jack was gone. Jack with his little grin, blatant admiration for her work, and the hard, cold way he fought. All of it was gone, and the roses waiting on her desk were red and impossible. 

Their petals were fragile and soft, and the thorns were trimmed neatly, and they were arranged in the vase just as her mother might have done. Toshiko fingered the card, and looked around the Hub. Owen was grumbling at some dead tissue on his desk, Gwen was absent, and Ianto had not yet come to offer her coffee. Jack’s light was off. 

But his name was on the card. His long scrawl, the giant J and H obscuring the other letters (which were illegible anyhow.)

Tosh covered her mouth and felt tears spring to her eyes. She remembered the long, cold hours in her little cell at UNIT. Wondering if her mother would live, or if she’d been kidnapped again or shot. Wondering if she herself would ever see an open sky again, or hear her own language. Doing pushups, situps, sun salutations just to pass the hours. Giving up and laying down for days in the damp dirt and stone. Knowing she’d been left for dead.

Torchwood wasn’t a treat exactly but it had been sanctuary and now was home. Jack had been her lifeline, and he’d been her home, and then, he’d just left them. Months had gone by, not a word. 

Yet here they were, these red aphrodisiac-scented miracles.

“They’re from Jack.” Ianto’s soft Welsh nudged in her thoughts, along with the clatter of the ceramic mug on her desk. Steam rose from the hot, fresh coffee inside. 

“How?” Tosh asked, looking around the Hub. He must have come home, but Ianto would look more confused and more happy if that were true, wouldn't he? “Where is he, Ianto?”

But the young man just shrugged. “He would have sent them if he were here.”

Sometimes she thought Ianto had grown hard and moved on, but this was maybe the most loyal thing he’d ever done, for both Jack and for herself. Keeping their Captain’s memory alive even when he’d left them, or gone god knew where. Ianto had the gentlest heart under his prim suits. Tosh threw her arms around his neck and pressed a little kiss to his suddenly red, embarrassed cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, with a little wink, as she pulled away. 

And as she primped her flowers, Ianto turned away to tend the coffees and water the little green leaves of the alien plants trying to eke out a living in their dark, underground hub.


End file.
